


A New Beginning

by justbygrace



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Teacher/Student, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 11:35:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5625286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbygrace/pseuds/justbygrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“(843): Grinding on my ninth grade teacher. Dreams really do come true”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Beginning

The club was crowded, hot and loud and pulsing with music, spilling lights and noise onto the sidewalk - the perfect way to forget about what a terrible idea Jimmy had been. It took the work of a moment to sidle up to the bouncer, shake just right and she was sailing inside, casting a smirk of triumph over her shoulder at the line of waiting - **legal** \- customers. She wasn't inside more than forty-five seconds before she had a drink in her hand, a minute and a half before she had a line of men waiting to dance with her. And dance she did, the slides and shakes and twirls that showed off her assets. There was a voice, a tiny voice that sounded suspiciously like her mum, that suggested that none of this was appropriate - for herself or the men who were easily twice her age, but it was easy to tune out, after all she'd been ignoring it for months. 

She was an hour (two, three maybe? it was easy to lose track of time when the world was already swaying and pitching on the edges) into the night when her hands, her body, her breasts were suddenly pressed against a masculine body that seemed oddly familiar. Why, she had no idea, after all the only male she'd been "allowed" to touch for ages was Jimmy and he was the polar opposite of this thick-chested man with a Northern bur and large hands that pressed her close to his leather-jacketed side. It took her a moment to realize that rather than continuing the dance he was leading her away, outside, and probably she should have been scared, but there was something comforting about his voice and gentle about his touch and she'd already made so many bad decisions, what was one more really. 

The blast of outside air drove sense back into her mind though not enough to recognize her companion, at least not past the decision that he was the most deliciously attractive human she'd seen in a long time. Her movements became seductive, angling her body towards his so he was forced to stop, wrapping a leg around his, thrusting her breasts into his chest, kissing his throat, his cheek, his lips. His groan sent a spark that did more towards waking her up than anything else could and he opened up under her, becoming pliable as he wrapped his arms around her, stroked her back, caressed her tongue with his own...and then suddenly he shoved her away, growling words she couldn't understand, but the meaning was clear, he didn't want her. Moments later she was secured in a taxi and though she recognized the address he gave the driver, she was too tired to protest. Jackie protested, scolded, and yelled, but also helped her errant daughter into pajamas, handed her a cup of water, and some aspirin and tucked her into bed.

It wasn't until the next afternoon, slouched on the sofa and nursing a killer hangover that she realized why she had recognized the hot stranger, he had attempted to teach her Science the year before, back when school was still a thing she did. Briefly she considered showing up at the gates, wouldn't the administration open their eyes at that, but then she remembered the way he had pushed her away and she closed her eyes, maybe finding a job down at Tesco's like her mum was going on about really was the better option.

*************************

The music that spilled out into the warm Spring night was subdued, gentle harmonies and intricate melodies, and she smiled as she handed her ID to the bouncer, it was a different sort of place than she used to frequent, but it was more her speed these days. Lately she much preferred her tiny flat, her ginger cat, and a glass of wine as she studied for her night classes to going out, but she had passed her Psych class and Professor Saxon had a reputation for failing women on principle, and she needed to celebrate. She wasn't long inside the door before she was accepting a drink from "the gentleman at Table 8" and she followed the drink with a dance with the same gentleman, something that involved more intricate turns and less jumping up and down. He was a nice man, this one who bought her drinks and spun her rather too quickly around the floor, but he wasn't why she was there and she let him down after only one dance, accepting the next contender with a smile and a nod. Tonight was about celebrating her successes, not necessarily finding a partner for the night. She loved the exercise of the dance floor, the headiness of drinking free alcohol, and the knowledge that she might be past twenty-three, but the line of men was just as long (not to mention more refined) than the ones when she had been fifteen. 

It was almost eleven and she was just about ready to retire for the evening, when a particularly vigorous twirl sent her into the arms of a new partner, one with broad-shoulders and gentle hands and an intoxicating smell of leather. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he smiled, a small quirk of his lips that quickly morphed into a full-blown grin that locked the words in her throat and forced her to spend all of her faculties to staying upright. For a man who was once adamant against this very pastime, she quickly realized he was fleet of foot, sending her twirling and dipping with practiced ease and proving herself his equal soon cleared her head enough to simply enjoy the feel of being in his arms once more. 

It was two dances later, or maybe five or six (it was easy to lose track of time when they matched one another so perfectly), when she realized he was angling them closer to the door. The old panic reared its head for a moment, he was done with her, abandoning her on the sidewalk once more, but one glance at his eyes, warm and clear blue and shining with an emotion she didn't dare to name, told her this night would end differently. The warm caress of the night breeze tickled her cheeks as she pressed closer to him, not with the desperate fancy of a teen, but the quiet resolve of a woman and they had hardly exited the establishment before he was the pulling her close, pressing his lips to her brow, her cheeks, her lips. She matched him here as she had on the dance floor, hands working their way into the belt loops of his jeans, hauling him close and closer still. His groan of desire reverberated from his chest to his as he lifted her, one arm easily supporting her, the other frantically hailing down a taxi, his lips never leaving hers. 

It wasn't until the next morning, her head resting on his chest, his fingers running through her hair, that she mentioned their long ago almost tryst. His groan of mortification brought a smile to her own face and it only grew broader as he recounted the months and years of traveling so that one day he could come back to her. Afterwards, after showing her appreciation, her love, everything she couldn't say aloud in the oldest language of the world, after breakfast, after a day spent watching old movies and a night tangled together, after a week of texts and phone calls, of night of passion, of months of museums and traveling and old bookstores, a year of holding hands and forehead kisses and learning his body as he learned hers, after a screaming fight with Jackie and a ring on her finger and a whole lot of frequent flyer miles, she knew this was a thing that would last. But for now, for the first morning after, it was enough to lay with her head on his chest and recognize that this was them, together, and it was good.


End file.
